He chuckled lightly as a small, cold wind scurried over my bare feet. Before us, the dark ocean stretched black and eternal. Small, frothing whitecaps slapped the shore. In the far distance, twinkling on the curve of the horizon, were the many lights of Catalina Island. Between us and Catalina were the much brighter lights of a dozen or so oil rigs. The beach itself was mostly quiet, although two or three couples were currently smooching on blankets here and there. They probably thought they were mostly hidden under the cover of darkness. They probably hadn't accounted for a vampire with built-in night vision watching them. A gyrating couple, about two hundred feet away up the beach, might have been doing the nasty.
Kingsley turned to me. I always liked the way the bridge of his nose angled straight up to his forehead. Very Roman. And very hot.
He said, "You became a private investigator after you were changed?"
"Yes."
"So that means you took your P.I. photo when you were a vampire."
"Yes."
"So how did you manage that?"
"I wore a lot of make up that day," I said smugly, proud of myself. I had wondered what to do about the photo, too.
"So the make up showed up, even though you didn't?"
"Yes, exactly. I even made sure I blinked when the picture was taken."
"Just in case your eye sockets came up empty."
"Exactly."
"You could have worn colored contacts," said Kingsley.
"But then the whites of my eyes would have come up empty," I said.
He nodded. "So you sacrificed your vanity."