Picken’s grisly death. Though I didn’t attend her funeral, my grandmother did, and she said the church was jam-packed. Poor lumpy Maudette, with her bitten thighs, was more interesting in death than she’d ever been in life.
I was about to have two days off, and I was worried I’d miss connecting with the vampire, Bill. I needed to relay my grandmother’s request. He hadn’t returned to the bar, and I began to wonder if he would.
Mack and Denise hadn’t been back in Merlotte’s either, but Rene Lenier and Hoyt Fortenberry made sure I knew they’d threatened me with horrible things. I can’t say I was seriously alarmed. Criminal trash like the Rats roamed the highways and trailer parks of America, not smart enough or moral enough to settle down to productive living. They never made a positive mark on the world, or amounted to a hill of beans, to my way of thinking. I shrugged off Rene’s warnings.
But he sure enjoyed relaying them. Rene Lenier was small like Sam, but where Sam was ruddy and blond, Rene was swarthy and had a bushy headful of rough, black hair threaded with gray. Rene often came by the bar to drink a beer and visit with Arlene because (as he was fond of telling anyone in the bar) she was his favorite ex-wife. He had three. Hoyt Fortenberry was more of a cipher than Rene. He was neither dark nor fair, neither big nor little. He always seemed cheerful and always tipped decent. He admired my brother Jason far beyond what Jason deserved, in my opinion.
I was glad Rene and Hoyt weren’t there the night the vampire returned.
He sat at the same table.
Now that the vampire was actually in front of me, I felt a little shy. I found I’d forgotten the almost imperceptible glow of his skin. I’d exaggerated his height and the clear-cut lines of his mouth.
“What can I get you?” I asked.
He looked up at me. I had forgotten, too, the depth of his eyes. He didn’t smile or blink; he was so immobile. For the second time, I relaxed into his silence. When I let down my guard, I could feel my face relax. It was as good as getting a massage (I am guessing).
“What are you?” he asked me. It was the second time he’d wanted to know.
“I’m a waitress,” I said, again deliberately misunderstanding him. I could feel my smile snap back into place again. My little bit of peace vanished.
“Red wine,” he ordered, and if he was disappointed I couldn’t tell by his voice.
“Sure,” I said. “The synthetic blood should come in on the truck tomorrow. Listen, could I talk to you after work? I have a favor to ask you.”
“Of course. I’m in your debt.” And he sure didn’t sound happy about it.
“Not a favor for me!” I was getting miffed myself. “For my grandmother. If you’ll be up—well, I guess you will be—when I get off work at one-thirty, would you very much mind meeting me at the employee door at the back of the bar?” I nodded toward it, and my ponytail bounced around my shoulders. His eyes followed the movement of my hair.
“I’d be delighted.”
I didn’t know if he was displaying the courtesy Gran insisted was the standard in bygone times, or if he was plain old mocking me.
I resisted the temptation to stick out my tongue at him or blow a raspberry. I spun on my heel and marched back to the bar. When I brought him his wine, he tipped me 20 percent. Soon after that, I looked over at his table only to realize he’d vanished. I wondered if he’d keep his word.
Arlene and Dawn left before I was ready to go, for one reason and another; mostly because all the napkin holders in my area proved to be half-empty. As I retrieved my purse from the locked cabinet in Sam’s office, where I stow it while I work, I called good-bye to my boss. I could hear him clanking around in the men’s room, probably trying to fix the leaky toilet. I stepped into the ladies’ room for a second to check my hair and makeup.
When I stepped outside I noticed that Sam had already switched off the customer parking lot lights. Only the security light on the electricity pole in front of his trailer illuminated the employee parking lot. To the amusement of Arlene and Dawn, Sam had put in a yard and planted boxwood in