Re-Vamping Las Vegas

by Jen Pretty

  I kept one eye on my laptop and watched some Young and the Restless. Those wacky rich people lived such dramatic lives.

  As the sun came over the horizon Tuesday morning, the sound of my third energy drink can popping open was startling in the silence. Having lost all interest in TV, I played a stupid block breaking game on my phone until my laptop pinged to alert me to activity on my new friend Allan’s laptop.

  I dropped my phone and leaned forward, hitting a few keys until I saw what I had been waiting for. Allan had logged into his bank account, and I captured his personal account number and password. I did a happy dance on the couch cushion and used my virus to fry his laptop with enough malware he would have to burn the thing. Poor Allen. I flushed the connection to his system and logged into his bank account.

  The man was loaded. He had just over a million dollars in his account. I could only imagine what the business and offshore accounts would have, but a million would do fine — a slap on the wrist.

  I started the arduous task of siphoning his money into a few Go Fund Me accounts I had set up. The amount of each transaction had to be small so the bank and Go Fund Me wouldn’t notice but once it was all in there, I split it between several women's shelters in Detroit area and closed up shop.

  I wondered if it would make the news. Probably front page. Man beats a woman, page nine, but he loses a million dollars? That’s news.

  I wiped every trace of my activity from my laptop and leaned back to enjoy my last energy drink.

  They didn’t keep me awake.

  I just liked the taste.

  —-

  Finally, Saturday rolled around, and I was itching to get out of the apartment. Jenkins was supposed to be at my building at eight o’clock but didn’t show until 8:15.

  The jerk.

  I slipped into the passenger seat of Jenkins’ Buick LeSabre. The car smelled like old socks and fast food grease.

  “Will this car even make it downtown?” I asked.

  “Shut it, Nia. It’s a perfectly fine car. Don’t like it; you can walk.”

  I scoffed, but shut it, as he suggested.

  Once we were downtown, I directed him to park in front of Sacred Heart Catholic Church, then slid out and climbed the steps.

  “What are we doing here? You can’t seriously plan to drink from someone here,” Jenkins moaned. I could, if I wanted to, but I had missed confession last week, and I’d be damned if I missed it again this week.

  Inside the tall chapel, the vaulted ceilings rang with the echo of my high-heeled shoes. My short dress was scandalous for a house of God, but I didn’t want to have to change again before the club. Candles flickered, illuminating the stained glass and sharp stone that made up the building that was older than I was. Few things were older than me, but I could feel the history in here and see it in the wear of the wooden pews where generations of people had sat and the slight indent in the stone floor where centuries of feet had tread.

  I opened the small door and sat in the confessional booth. Before I shut the door, I saw Jenkins make the sign of the cross and kneel in a pew in the front row.

  Good Catholic boy.

  “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.” I whispered.

  “I missed you last week, Nia. Maybe the first Sunday in 10 years. Though you know I don’t expect any of my flock to come every week,” Father John said.

  The patterned window between us obscured his features, but I knew he had grey hair and deep laugh lines on his clean-shaven face. He was a small man, but his voice filled the church at Sunday Mass. I didn’t attend Sunday Mass regularly, as mornings didn’t work for my schedule, but I never missed Sunday evening confessional.

  “Yes, Father, I got in a bit of trouble Saturday night. I punched Ryan, though I’m not sure that’s a sin, as he deserved it.”

  “It is always a sin to hit someone in anger, Nia,” he admonished lightly. “Is that what kept you from confession?” he asked.

  “No, father, I accidentally ran my Firebird into the gazebo in the town square. Technically, I’m pretty sure someone spiked my drink, but my car is damaged. That, I know, is a sin. It took years to get the parts for that car.”

  Father John’s soft chuckle echoed through the confessional. “If you didn’t do it on purpose, it is an accident, not a sin.”

  Well, that was a relief. Though, if God was cool with the gazebo thing, I wasn’t sure why the police were being so annoying about it.

  “Though, perhaps you should make peace with Ryan. The feud between you hurts God's heart and tarnishes your journey to Him. Is there anything else?”

  “I stole from a wife beater and gave the money to a bunch of women’s shelters,” I whispered so the policeman wouldn’t hear me.

  Father John sighed heavily. “Nia.”

  “I know,” I replied.

  He shook his head beyond the confessional window that separated us. “Say five Our Fathers and make amends with Ryan. And, Nia, no more stealing.”

  He said his prayer and absolved me of my sins, and I walked out of the confessional feeling light and relieved. It was nice to have someone I could talk to about anything. Father John never asked dumb questions. I knelt in the pew beside Jenkins and closed my eyes to say my prayers. Just like I did as a child.

  —

  1824 Rome, Italy

  All the men and women wore their most elegant clothes. The hooves of horses pounded on the stone courtyard in front of Sant’Agata de’ Goti. The church stood a million miles high to my young eyes. I was dizzy looking up at the terrifying image of St. Agatha, her breasts displayed on a plate. Her torturers removed them when she refused to denounce her faith in Christ.

  We moved through the crowd as it funnelled into the beautiful building. My hand was small in my father’s, his grip tight as though he worried I would run off. At six years old, I had already seen enough horrors. I stayed at my parent's sides at all times. The bells tolled, deafening me as we passed through the doors into the darkened interior. The ornate granite columns with decorative engravings stretched up arched walls that lined the nave leading to the pulpit where the Cardinal would preach to the flock that awaited him.

  I slid into a bench, between my father and mother and quietly said a prayer to Saint Agatha, that I would have her determination.

  —

  I shook myself out of the memory, stood and left the church. Jenkins followed behind me, and we got back in his rusty car.

  “To Ray’s, Driver,” I said, smiling at the disgruntled police officer.

  “Did you snack on Father John in that confessional?”

  I scoffed. “Unbelievable. I would never snack on Father John. He is a national treasure.”

  Jenkins raised a bushy eyebrow at me and then pulled out into light evening traffic and drove us to Ray’s, where the party was just getting started.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  At Ray’s the line-up continued around the corner. I walked past Jimmy, the bouncer, and into the sea of warm, delicious bodies. Behind me, Jimmy stopped Jenkins at the door, but let him in when the officer flashed his badge. The club was full and busy already. Ray had help behind the bar. The new bartenders made sure to serve everyone promptly. I appreciated that too. Nothing worse than waiting for a drink. The smell of alcohol wafted through the steamy air; business was good. The crowd was just a mass of limbs and bodies, no space between. My initial excitement cooled when I spotted my least favourite type of human: Disciples. They worshiped vampires, making a whole religion out of the undead. They were mostly addicts though. Bitten too many times and now only living for the high we could give them. It was sad and pathetic.

  The black-clad group of goths all turned and looked at me, like creepy children gazing upon their hero. I turned to avoid them and got myself lost in the crowd.

  “Hey, Nia!” Ray called, as I approached the bar. He smiled and poured me a drink. He liked the freaks. They were good business. But then, so was I. N
ightclubs with known vampire patronage could draw business from all the smaller neighbouring towns.

  “The freaks are out tonight,” I shouted.

  Ray laughed and gave me a double thumbs up.

  Jenkins slid onto the stool beside me. “How long will this take?” He yelled.

  I set my purse on the bar beside him, gave him a little wave and turned from the bar. If I could stay away from the wanna-be vamps, it would be a fun night. I wasn’t opposed to having Jenkins watching me, either. Game on.

  I surveyed the crowd as I danced with some sloshed girls. They were giggly and held hands; probably wouldn’t make it to last call. I got lost in the music. The energy in the club was high with this many bodies, and I couldn’t resist the siren call. The lights flashed and strobed as the live DJ spun records with a fast, heavy beat. As the girls moved on, I danced with a man who was older than the usual crowd; maybe early thirties. His hands roamed over my body as we moved together. His scent was delicious and made my teeth ache, but he wasn’t the one I wanted tonight. Glancing back at the bar through the crowd, I saw Jenkins watching me.

  I wanted him to watch.

  I moved across the room, leaving the old guy behind. Clustered near the hall to the restrooms stood a group of disciples. Their black eyeliner and dark clothes gave them away. They begged for vampire attention and were always willing to be bitten, but their neediness was disgusting. I didn't want them either. They just cluttered the club.

  One of them noticed me and moved through the crowd in my direction. He approached, head tipped, neck bared. When I hissed at him, he dropped to a knee. Literally. He bowed.

  I threw my hands up and spun away, not in the mood for their crap tonight. I pressed past the hoard of people and back to the bar where I waved at Ray.

  “Hurry up,” Jenkins said. He had a glass in front of him, but I was sure it was just water.

  I flipped him off. My night of hunting was turning into a bust. Ray brought me another drink, and I chugged it. Turning back to find someone to munch on, I didn’t care who, anymore.

  The first man I flashed my fangs at, turned away. Bastard. I wasn’t about to spend all night waiting for my dinner. It was time to get home. The night-life was tiring.

  The man I danced with was several inches taller than me. He had spiked hair and dark stubble on his chin. His height put him taller than I liked, but he smelled delicious, like fresh cut grass and springtime. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and flashed my teeth at him. His eyes went wide and his muscles tensed. After a second, he tipped his head. I leaned in until my lips pressed against his skin. I licked his neck, and he drew a sharp breath. My eyes sought Jenkins at the bar and locked onto his as I bit down, piercing skin and vein beneath with the practiced aim of centuries. The man’s legs gave out, but I held him up as his blood filled my body. I felt the tingle of life returning to my cold limbs, and my heart shook like an earthquake in my chest. The heat was better than any hot shower. It was like the sun rose in my stomach, covering me in its early morning rays.

  The crowd around us slipped away. The sounds and lights faded until it was just me, Jenkins and the guy's heartbeat. Our rhythm was perfect. Thump. Thump.

  Jenkins' eyes blinked to the same beat. The whole world in time, like constellations aligning. He watched for longer than I thought he would, his eyes trained on mine. Finally, he looked away, his cheeks pink but I could still see his fast, shallow breathing from across the club. I licked the man’s neck, sealing the punctures and steadied him on his feet. I ducked through the crowd and grabbing my purse off the bar beside Jenkins.

  “Let’s go,” I said, walking towards the door. I could feel Jenkins’ eyes on me and knew he was following. I wanted to go home, have a hot shower and forget about this night. The judge had to see me tomorrow to decide what my punishment would be. Vampires had more rights than humans. We didn’t have to wait so long for court dates.

  I slipped into the passenger seat of Jenkins’ car. He got in and pulled away from the curb.

  “Do you usually just bite people in the middle of the bar?” Jenkins asked.

  “No,” I said and continued staring out the window as the city lights went by.

  He drove in silence for a while, but I could hear his mind running through what he wanted to say. I listened to his lips part several times like he would say something, but then he closed his mouth again.

  He pulled up to the front of my building, and I started to get out.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight to see the judge.”

  I stepped out and shut the door then entered my apartment building and took the stairs up. Running as fast as I could, got me up eight flights in about a minute. The rush of adrenaline pushed a smile to my face, unbidden, and wiped away the last of the night's strange feelings.

  Mrs. Henderson smiled at me as I approached my apartment door. Her door was wide open, and the whole floor smelled like her fresh baked cookies. I wasn’t sure what kind of crazy drove a person to make cookies at two am, but it smelled great.

  “Hello, Nia. Were you out with your nice gentleman caller?”

  I laughed. People said I was old, but Mrs. Henderson was old fashioned. “Yes, we went to the club on Broad Street,” I told her as I fished my keys out of my purse. “What are you doing up this late?”

  “Oh, you know, we are having a bake sale at the church, and I wanted to make sure the cookies were as fresh as possible.” She sat on her walker seat and fished a ball of yarn and some knitting needles out of her bag.

  “They smell great. Good luck at the sale,” I said as I opened my door and waved goodbye to the old coot.

  I sat at my kitchen island and listened to the click, click of Mrs. Henderson’s knitting needles until I felt chilled again. Then I tucked into bed with my heated blanket and fell asleep.

  I woke to the sound of someone knocking on my door. The clock said it was almost six thirty. I threw back the covers and peeked through the peephole. I could see Jenkins standing in the hall talking to someone out of view. I opened the door as Mrs. Henderson handed him a box of her cookies.

  “Thank you. Yes, I think Nia is special too,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “Ok, well I'll let you two be alone, but let me know if you need any more cookies.” Mrs. Henderson turned her walker around and went back into her apartment.

  Jenkins walked through my door, and I shut it behind him.

  “Why does your neighbour think I’m your gentleman caller?” he asked.

  I snorted a laugh and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the shower. I wasn’t going to talk to the judge smelling like beer.

  When I came back out, Jenkins was sitting on my couch with the remote for my TV in his hand as he surfed through all the channels.

  “Do you have every channel?” he asked when he noticed me standing there watching him.

  “Yeah. Can we go?” I asked.

  He flicked the TV off and stood up, following me to the door, where I slipped on my business shoes, and we walked out of the building together. I had put on my light blue skirt suit that made me look reliable and trustworthy. I wore it ironically, and it wouldn’t help since the judge knew me, but I should get points for effort.

  The courtroom had two dozen people in it, including the women’s auxiliary group that had put themselves in charge of the downtown gardens. They were like the Stepford wives: Perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect families. Disgusting. I wanted to scare them so they peed their perfect pants, but held back hoping the judge would forget that I had caused problems before and let me go with a warning.

  The women's auxiliary would cause a stink anyway, I knew it. You would think the damage to my car was punishment enough.

  My lawyer stood at the table in front of the judge, and I walked down the aisle and stood beside him.

  “Aaron,” I said in the way of greeting.

  “Hey, Nia. This should be quick.”

  I hummed.

  “Order in
the court, the Honourable Judge Barlow presiding," the bailiff called out as the judge entered the room and took his seat.

  “Hello, Nia. I hear you have been mostly obeying the law this week.”

  The ladies muttered behind me.

  “Yes, judge. Good little vampire.” I used the word to remind the snitches behind me to watch their tongues. It worked. They shut it.

  “Good. Listen, Nia.” The judge took off his glasses and leaned forward. “The city damage to the gazebo has been repaired, but it has taken time away from the efforts of the Ladies Auxiliary. They are trying to get the town square ready for the planned Gazebo Festival. So, they have asked, and I’ve agreed to sentence you to 20 hours of community service to help with the gardens and clean-up of the town square.”

  “You can’t be serious.” I looked at my lawyer, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

  “I’m quite serious. If you do not agree with my ruling, you are welcome to call in the Blood Guard to settle the dispute.

  Ugh. Everyone played that card. The Blood Guard would call my father and everyone in this town knew I didn’t want to see him. Maybe it was time to find a new place to live. Twenty hours, I could get that done in 2 nights. That would mean I would be a day behind for my work, but not a big deal.

  Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for my reply.

  “Fine,” I said, and they could have heard the collective sigh of relief at the edge of town.

  “Excellent. I will have Officer Jenkins remove your monitoring device, and you can begin right away.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the smiling ladies, wiping the look right off their faces as I walked past. They would regret messing up my week.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Finally free of the monitoring device, I took a cab home and changed into black jeans and a black t-shirt. The idiotic women of the auxiliary would meet me downtown at the gazebo to get me started on my chores. I made sure they wouldn’t see me coming.