Slayed

by Amanda Marrone

  The driver is in the front seat blowing smoke out his window. He looks like a pretty big, burly guy and I wonder why on earth he’s driving a pink caddie with a Disco Unicorn emblem for all to see. As I head back to the pub a smile comes to my lips, and I hum the tune to their “Pineapple Pizza Picnic” song; one of my favorites—and one Dad used to sing to me.

  I remember the day he took Mom and me to a restaurant and ordered pineapple pizza, something I thought only existed in the Disco Unicorn world—and something Mom came down on him for because the pineapple cost a whopping two dollars extra.

  When I get to the sidewalk I look to see if that Harker kid is lurking around in his stupid trench coat stalking me. I spot him leaning on the rails by the end of the dock peering out at the sky—apparently not looking for me at all.

  As I pull open the door to the pub, overly loud music and voices spill out and I remember his name.

  Tyler.

  3.

  Inside The Rusty Rudder, a loud group is playing pool and laughing. A few people sit alone or in pairs, and a girl with white-blond hair is arguing loudly with the bartender. I’ve seen this scene played out at countless bars before and know it’s only a matter of time before Blondie will be forcibly bounced out for being intoxicated—which she will vehemently and loudly deny.

  It’s never pretty.

  I decide to ask for a seat near the pool table. The waitress comes over and I get ready for the drill.

  “I’m Shelly and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you something?” she asks.

  “I’ll have whatever the Sam Adams seasonal is—on tap if you have it.”

  “Do you have a driver’s license?” she says without missing a beat. She stares me down like she knows I’m underage and completely wasting her time.

  I nod and take out my fake ID. “Here ya go.”

  Shelly gives my license a quick once-over and hands it back.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she says.

  My parents have instructed me to order alcohol to “blend in,” but have made me promise to drink very little because I’m only seventeen. I’ve been on “bar” duty for a year, and it’s such a relief to be away from my parents and pretend I’m a grown-up for a while. I turn my attention to the crowd at the pool table. They’re overly loud, but unfortunately, it’s mostly giggling by the girls and posturing by the guys—nothing about vampires, missing persons, or the kids in the hospital.

  Everyone else seems to be consuming their drinks—so no vamps in here at the moment. Vamps will order a drink and bring the glass to their lips but take only very tiny sips.

  They prefer blood.

  The pool table crowd suddenly stops talking. One brunette with her hair in a ponytail gently elbows her friend and they both look toward the bar. The bleach blonde who was arguing with the bartender is weaving her way toward them and they stifle a laugh.

  “Oh, God, here she comes,” the brunette says.

  “Booty call, Gabe,” another girl says.

  Two guys fist bump while another in ripped jeans and a flannel shirt holds a pool cue up to his mouth like a microphone and starts singing an off-key rendition of “Jelly-Bean Jamboree” which was another one of my favorite Disco Unicorn songs. I look around trying to figure out the connection to The Disco Unicorns but come up empty.

  “You suck, Gabe,” Blondie says, but she’s smiling at him.

  The guy in flannel puts the pool cue to his lips and licks the handle. “Actually, I was hoping you’d suck,” he answers back with a wink.

  He leans in and tries to kiss her but she pushes him away and then jumps up to sit on the edge of the pool table. I cringe and hope she’s wearing underwear because her skirt is way too short. “Asshole,” she says, but it’s obvious she’s enjoying it all.

  My mind scrambles. I could swear I’ve seen her before, but I think I’d remember boobs that big. She leans back and sticks out her chest. “I’m bored,” she says.

  “Why don’t you get a job?” the brunette asks.

  The other girl eyes Blondie. “From the looks of her outfit I’d say she’s working—how much are you gonna pay her tonight, Gabe?”

  My mouth drops open as the two girls laugh.

  Blondie sits up, sways a bit and then flips them off with both hands. “Fuck off, bitches. Hope your moms are having fun cleaning rooms at the Motel 6; they’re due to scrub all seven toilets at my house tomorrow.”

  The girls stop laughing and one of them flips her back, but they get quiet and move toward the bar followed by two of the guys.

  “Gabe, darling, you’ve got to stop slumming it with those harpies,” she says. She pulls him over to her and wraps her legs around him and starts singing an X-rated version of “Jelly-Bean Jamboree.”

  I can hardly believe this. I’m here to see if there’s any scoop on the local vamps; instead I’m listening to some trashy girl singing about jelly beans and sex—which is totally messing with my G-rated memories of the song. Shelly brings me my beer and I take a big swig—sorry, Mom and Dad.

  Shelly tilts her head toward the girl. “Try to ignore her. She does this almost every night, but from the looks of it she’ll be leaving pretty soon with her friend. You know how it is—famous parents, ridiculously spoiled, party animal kid. It’s sad, really; she was so nice when she was little.”

  I stare at the girl for a few seconds and then my mouth drops open. “Oh, my God. Is that Maybelle Crusher?” I whisper. Maybelle was the daughter of the lead singers of The Disco Unicorns. She used to sing with her parents on the TV show, but when season three started she was inexplicably replaced by a perky blonde named Sugar LeBlanc who I never warmed up to because her smile was always too big and forced-looking.

  “That’s Maybelle all right,” Shelly says.

  My heart skips a beat. I found one of my “friends.”

  There’s a picture of Maybelle and me dancing in the Pink Pony Playhouse in my binder. I look over at Maybelle grinding herself against Gabe on the pool table and feel like the wind just got knocked out of me. All the years I dreamed of finding one of my “friends” in real life and when I finally do, she’s a foul-mouthed—hate to say it—ho. Of course, given my long history of broken dreams, I’m not sure why this should surprise me.

  Life is so not fair.

  Shelly cracks her gum. “She goes by Kiki now. Got her name officially changed and everything. A lot of people don’t make the connection; too much plastic surgery and bleach.” She points to my beer. “I’ll take slinging drinks over the life that kid must have had any day. All the money and opportunity in the world and she’s here, making an ass of herself.”

  Shelly saunters away and I glance at Kiki making out with Gabe. I quickly turn away and gulp some more of my beer. I take another peek and shake my head. I’m figuring she can’t be more than five feet tall. I think she had the bump removed from the bridge of her nose and she’s gone overboard with the bleach. On the show, she had this super shiny brown hair, but now Kiki Crusher looks like a hoochie Barbie doll.

  Kiki comes up for air and pushes Gabe away. “Hey!” she calls out as Shelly passes her. “Can you get me another Cosmo?”

  Shelly keeps walking, looking straight ahead. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  I know she’s not twenty-one, because I remember her birthday episode on TV and I was excited we were almost the same age. From what I’ve seen on the tabloid covers, being rich gets you special privileges.

  Kiki rolls her eyes. “You always say that and I always tell you I’m not driving myself home so it doesn’t matter how much I have!”

  Shelly looks over her shoulder. “I still think you’ve had enough,” she insists. “Why don’t you go home and sleep it off….” She glares at Gabe. “Alone.”

  Gabe laughs and puts an arm around Kiki. “I’ll have a beer while you’re at it—twenty-two ounce. You’re buying, right, babe?”

  “Sure!” Kiki says loudly. She scans the room and then zeroes in on me. “You
,” she says, pointing in my direction. “I don’t know you, but I’ll buy you one too.” She reaches into a micro-mini handbag and takes out a fistful of crumpled cash. “Whadda ya want?”

  I shake my head. “Um, I’m good.”

  Kiki laughs and throws the bills on the pool table. “Oh, my God, you’re turning down free booze? What planet are you from? Get our drinks will you?” she says to Gabe, pushing him in the direction of the bar. She jumps from the pool table, tugs her skirt, and then plops herself down in the chair opposite me. “Do you know who I am?” she asks, swinging an arm out and knocking my beer over.

  I push my chair back and grab some napkins as beer starts to pour onto my lap. “Geez!”

  Kiki giggles. “Sorry. I’ll buy you another, but do you know who I am?”

  I stare across the table hardly believing this is the same girl I used to love to watch on TV. “No, I don’t. And I have to go.” I turn my back to her and take my wallet out from my bag, careful not to expose the two stakes inside.

  “Do The Disco Unicorns mean anything to you?”

  “No,” I say putting some money down on the table.

  Kiki gives me an incredulous look. “Multiplatinum, kiddie-rock band?”

  “Sorry.” I sling my purse strap over my shoulder and head for the door.

  “TV show on the Kidz Network?” she asks, following me. “Still in production.”

  “Doesn’t sound familiar.” I wind my way around the tables and then open the door, praying she won’t come after me. I just want to find Mom and Dad and see if we got the job—although at this point I’m hoping Mr. Harker made a better impression and we can move on.

  Kiki follows me out. “Cut the shit. Everyone knows The Disco Unicorns.” She looks up at me and taps her foot impatiently on the sidewalk while humming the tune to “Puppy Parade.”

  Why me?

  Folding my arms across my chest I say the first thing that comes to mind that might get Kiki Crusher out of my face. “Oh, wait,” I say as if the idea has just come to me. “Isn’t that the band Sugar LeBlanc sings with?”

  Kiki’s eyes widen and she takes a few steps backward. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? That bitch can’t sing for shit!”

  She looks really upset and I remind myself that just because I don’t have a life doesn’t mean I have to take it out on innocent bystanders—no matter how trashy they are. “Sorry, Maybelle, but if it makes you feel better I always thought you were way better than Sugar and her deranged Joker smile.”

  She doubles over laughing and grabs a street sign post to keep from falling. “Ha! I knew you recognized me.” She looks conspiratorially around and then brings a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Let me tell you a secret…. What’s your name?”

  “Daphne. Daphne Van Helsing.”

  She laughs again—like my name is any stupider than either one of hers. “Well, Daphne, Sugar LeBitch lip-synched to a blend of both of our vocals. Hers weren’t good enough to go it alone, but don’t tell anyone or the record label will send a hit man after us.”

  Despite all the things I’ve seen and heard in my life I still find this shocking news. “But why wouldn’t you just do the singing? I mean, your parents are the lead singers!”

  She seems to deflate on the spot. “The producers didn’t think I was photogenic enough. And long story short, my parents agreed.” She runs her fingers through her hair and takes another step back. “You know what—I’m not feeling so good. I think I should go home.”

  “What about your friend inside?”

  “Eh, I don’t feel like dealing with him with tonight—he never calls afterward anyway.” She shakes her head. “Asshole.” Kiki takes one more step back and goes over the curb, landing on her butt in the street. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” she mutters as I rush over to help her up.

  I pull her back to her feet and she pushes me away. “I’m fine! I don’t need any help!”

  “You’re bleeding,” I say eyeing her elbow. Drops of blood well up where her skin scraped the pavement. I do a quick scan up and down the street. If South Bristol is attracting vamps it’s most likely newbies who are ravenous and Kiki Crusher is now chum. I reach into my purse and put one hand on a stake. “Let me walk you out.”

  She cradles her elbow with one hand and shakes her head. “You don’t have to. I don’t even know why I came out after you. Too much to drink, I guess.”

  She heads toward the alleyway and this time I’m following her. I have to make sure she gets to her car okay. “Um, tell me more about Sugar.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I wish I’d thought of something less painful to ask about. God, my social skills are abysmal, but it’s not like I’ve had much opportunity to fine-tune them.

  Kiki stops and looks back at me. “Sugar was dimples and blue eyes, and I was big-nose, mousy hair, and weight issues. Having craft services laying out all that junk food on set every day didn’t help with that. But the advertisers said kids weren’t buying my action figure because I was chubby, and a focus group concluded a cuter kid would boost sales.”

  She stops and tilts her chin up to the sky. “I can sing rings around Sugar, but they put her center stage and I got stuck dancing backup in a unicorn costume.” She looks at me. “Do you know how hard it was to watch Sugar playing it up with my parents on the red carpet or photo shoots like she was their kid? They don’t usually televise the kids’ CD winner at the Grammys, but the year they put Sugar in the band they turned into superstars and got a prime-time slot. I was five years old and I was in the background.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” Kiki whispers. “It sucked watching Sugar being a shiny, prettier version of me.”

  On the scale of suckiness that is definitely up there.

  She leans over and rests her hands on her bent knees. “Did I also tell you I don’t feel so good?” She starts to rock on her feet and I remember the goal is to get her off the streets.

  “Let me help you to your car.”

  She nods and I put an arm around her.

  “Uh-oh,” she says again, putting her hand to her mouth. “Hold on.” She leans over and I cringe as she throws up a liquid brown mess that reeks of alcohol and bile. She coughs and spits, and then looks up at me as she wipes her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” What else can I say? “Come on, we’re almost there.” The driver’s leaning his head against the window and I’m guessing he’s fallen asleep.

  I open the back door and Kiki stumbles in. She leans forward and taps the man on the shoulder. “Sam, I’m ready.”

  A woman with a bloodstained face pops up beside the driver and Kiki screams, “Who the hell are you?”

  The woman pushes the driver away and he moans and grabs the steering wheel to steady himself. Blood drips from two wounds on his neck.

  Kiki’s mouth drops open. “Sam? Are you okay?”

  From the dim light hanging by the back door of the pub I can just make out the fangs as the vampire starts to scramble over the seat toward Kiki.

  Kiki lets out another horror-movie scream, and I drag her out of the car. “Run! Go back in the bar—don’t come out until I tell you to!”

  “That bitch was eating my bodyguard!”

  “Just run!” I shriek, pushing her in the direction of the front door.

  I pull a stake out of my bag as the vampire crawls into the backseat. She eyes me hungrily with glowing black eyes. Her body tenses and then she lunges out of the car like a panther, knocking me to the ground. My head slams into the pavement and I try to blink away the pain.

  A mouth full of teeth growls over me and with a snarl she dives in toward my neck. I smell the metallic-tasting blood in her mouth and suddenly a pointed boot arcs inches from my face and connects with the vampire’s chin, knocking her off me.

  I roll toward her across the pavement, gravel digging into my hands and knuckles, and then grunt as I plunge the stake in her chest.

  “Shit!” I’ve missed the mark by a long shot—there was
no sound of bones cracking to tell me I’d broken through the ribs. Her mouth opens in a silent scream as her hands claw at the stake. My near miss hasn’t done a thing to dampen her fight.

  “Damn it,” I mutter through gritted teeth. I punch the woman in the face to distract her, then straddle her and yank the stake out. She bares her teeth like a wild animal and lifts her head toward me as I drive the stake back in. Her clawlike fingers ball up in fists as her dark eyes widen. Her arms fall to her sides and her body stills like she’s suddenly fallen asleep. Blood puddles up out of her mouth and trickles from her nose. I pull out the knife from the sheath strapped to my calf. It takes three strokes but I finally sever her head and knock it away from her body with the blade.

  I spy my purse across the pavement and hustle to it. Once a vamp has been exterminated it’s urgent the authorities are notified for pickup to avoid people stumbling onto the scene. I fumble for my cell phone and call Mom.

  One ring, two—

  “Daphne?”

  “Mom! I just staked a vamp,” I say breathlessly. “We’ll need body removal, and there’s a victim. He appears to be okay, I’m thinking the vampire hadn’t been at it long. I’m behind The Rusty Rudder.”

  “Any witnesses?” she asks.

  My stomach drops. The boot. I look toward the car and Kiki Crusher is hovering over her driver, who is assuring her he’s okay.

  She turns to me with wild, excited eyes. “That was freaking epic!”

  4.

  “Daphne, are you still there?” I redirect my attention to the phone. “Uh, sorry, beside the vic, there’s one witness.”

  Mom sighs. “Just what I was hoping to avoid; that’s going to cost us. We agreed to let them dock our pay if there are witnesses.”

  Crap. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I’m sure it was unavoidable,” she says with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Is the witness doing okay? Should I tell the agents to have a tranquilizer ready?”

  Kiki is still staring at me, shaking her head and smiling crazily. “No, she doesn’t appear to need sedation; she seems to be handling the whole thing remarkably well.”