at the shop, usually happened when vampires were thirsty, angry or…excited. My blood rushed to my cheeks and I was weirdly proud that I’d managed to get that reaction out of him. I felt…powerful. Which was probably wrong, but I was willing to go with it.
“I can’t always control them,” he said, gesturing to his mouth and clearing his throat awkward. “Though, uh, it’s been a long time since that’s happened.”
“I’m fine,” I promised him. “And not to be a buzzkill, but no matter how well things work between us, we may never be able to have all those nice things you mentioned.”
“I’d still like to try,” he mumbled, kissing me again. “And a proper first date—without your contingent of vampire chaperones—is a good way to start, I think.”
“Dick doesn’t mean half of those threatening gestures,” I swore as we settled back into our seats.
“I would like to believe you, but somehow…” Alex shuddered.
“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie,” I said. “I figured Amadeus would be right up your alley.”
He shrugged. “I don’t spend much time on television or movies. It’s always seemed so loud to me. Too much.”
“That seems so outside of my experience,” I laughed, thinking of how often I would come home to not only the living room TV blasting, but my parents’ unit blasting in their room. No wonder I was so good at tuning out noise at the music school. “But I think you’ll like this. It involves Mozart…though I can’t guarantee historical accuracy…or that you won’t be insulted by the way the era’s hairstyle was portrayed.”
“Impossible, the era’s hairstyles were horrifying,” he informed me, making me giggle.
As the last pink fingers of sunset faded from the sky, the screen lit up with the same old WELCOME TO MARV’S slide. As usual, the classic dancing concessions commercial played, encouraging the audience to “go to the lobby.” Which didn’t exist, because we were outside.
Alex glanced towards the concession stand, grimacing at the sight of a line that stretched all the way across the parking lot and around the corner towards the screen. “The line has barely moved since I got here. Is there service really that slow?”
I grinned. “No, that is the magical draw of the pizza bacon dog on a stick.”
Alex froze. “I’m sorry, what now?”
“It’s a hot dog wrapped in bacon with cheese, pepperoni, and chopped onions sort of secured inside that porky cocoon, then dipped in corndog batter and deep fried.”
Alex gagged and held up a finger. “Pardon me for a moment.”
“No, I get it, if solid food tastes like garbage to you, that would basically be a nightmare on a stick.”
Local legend had it that Marv invented the pizza bacon dog on a stick late one night when there was a rush on the concession stand and he had hot dogs, but no buns; pepperoni, but no pizza dough. He’d combined them in desperation and created a snack food that captured local tastes and imagination. (It wasn’t that hard to do, considering that Marv had used cheese food product, processed meats and deep-frying…and this was Kentucky.)
Despite the increasingly mediocre movie selections, customers still showed up for the pizza bacon dogs on a stick. Sometimes, they just ate pizza bacon dogs and then left before the movie started—even after paying admission! That culinary marvel kept Marv’s open through recessions and heat waves and the IMAX craze.
“Did you want something to eat?” he asked. “It’s considered a cornerstone of any modern date, yes?”
“You’re sweet to offer, but I wouldn’t do that to you.” I snickered. “I ate before I left the house. I don’t want to trap you in a car with food that smells disgusting to you.”
“Your sacrifice is very considerate,” he said, smiling at me. “Jane told me how important food is to werewolves, what with your fast metabolism.”
I didn’t mention the devastating effects of a pizza bacon dog on a stick on one’s breath. The one natural ingredient in the pizza bacon dogs on a stick—the onions—were homegrown in Marv’s garden and were legendarily potent. I was doing us both a favor.
“That is one of the few things werewolves have over on the vampires. The ability to eat multiple pizzas in a single bound without suffering the consequences,” I conceded. “But you all get super-secret extra powers and I am very jealous.”
“Some of those powers aren’t very useful,” he assured me. “I met a vampire in Munich whose special vampire skill was knowing when sun was about to rise.”